


House Made of Glass

by HarlotsHouse



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Eye Gouging, Fire, Fix-It of Sorts, Flash Fic, Jealousy, Love, M/M, Manipulation, Murder, Obsession, Piano
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:15:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29110662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarlotsHouse/pseuds/HarlotsHouse
Summary: Will contemplates whether Hannibal truly loves him or not. He decides to test his loyalty.---Alternate ending to season 2.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 135
Collections: Hannibal Flash Fic #004





	House Made of Glass

Wind flew in through the open gapes in the charred walls surrounding them, running it's cool fingers across stiff faces and broken pieces of wood. The wreckage circled Will, like grim faced admirers hoping to catch the barest of touches of their messiah's feet. Men and women picked around the rubble of the cabin for evidence.

"What do you see, Will?"

On any other occasion, Will might have liked arriving at the point he stood. Trees and nature expanded across the mountain side. The lake down below shined like a beacon, beckoned Will to ditch the tarnished cabin for the more secure activity to profiling, tempted Will to lose himself in its inky depths as he fished.

"He left the piano unscathed."

Far off, close to the damaged northern wall, it collected dust under the grey morning light. The keys were yellowed with disuse.

"It's important to him somehow," Jack agreed. "But what does it have to do with _that_."

At this, Will glanced at the bodies positioned across the filth on the floor smack in the middle of the room. Despite their burnt surroundings every member of the family was without singed clothes or limbs, skin pale with cold, and mouths hung open, collecting flies. Debris clung to the hairs of their heads, where bullets marked their trailed vendetta, silver clashing with the crimson and pinks of their brains. A shaky sigh escaped Will.

The pendulum swung once, then twice.

With his eyes closed, Will inhaled the remnants of the burnt chaos as it shifted to something more angry, now alive, it undulated, spiked along arcades of furnishings and walls, and for a heart searing second Will felt a scorching heat hugging him from every angle, frying his mind, but then it was gone, the flickering tongues of flames merely licked at his ankles until they were no more.

When he opened his eyes Will found himself outside under the canopy of trees, the summer cabin stood up ahead in all its former glory. Time had reversed. Will felt enraged at the sight of it. _It's taunting me._

Will entered the cabin. He was welcomed with open arms and smiling children. They're familiar with him. One woman in particular, however, stood off to the side, and watched him with a closed off expression. Will's lips set down in a firm line, displeased. He's in love with her, he treated her right, treated even _her children_ right, but she still stood at the side of _that_ treacherous man.

 _"It's good to see you,"_ The man greeted with his hand held out for Will to shake. He frowned in confusion as Will simply glared down at it.

The woman narrowed her eyes, prompting Will to reluctantly shake her husband's hand with a forced smile. Will waited until the family went out to the lake to take out the piano, he placed it safely in the shed. Will caringly swept a gloved hand across it's top, dipping himself in the memories of blue eyes watching in rapt fascination as he played for their beautiful owner. But as all good things did, those moments came to an end, long before he gained the courage to spill gasoline along the outskirts of the summer getaway.

The cabin went up in flames, it engulfed the first floor before zooming along the wood at the top in a whirlwind of bright red fury.

 _"What have you done?"_ the woman gasped in shock behind him.

A bullet flew through her husband's head before he could even scream. Will shoots the children, they go down quickly, though he's sad to see their once joyful expressions crumple along with their frail bodies.

 _"All I ever wanted was for you and them to have a good life,"_ Will cried out. _"With me_."

 _"We already had one."_ Tears trickled down his beloved's face.

As the bullet rung through the air Will immediately regretted his hand's action. He yelled his pained cries to the woods and moon, grasped at his lover's limp body with a devotion she would never know. However, the satisfaction that she would never take another lover lingered obstrusively over him. Killing her made her forever his. _This is my design._

Will startled abruptly, back to the present. Jack watched him, a wrinkle knitting his eyebrows closed. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Will asked, "When did they put out the fire?"

"Not long after it first went up, two days ago," Jack answered. He cast a concerned side eye at Will before taking in the sight once more himself. Will's breathing had become uneven. "They waited a day to bring in more inspectors. They were surprised to find the Millers' bodies inside, where you see them now."

"Their killer wanted vengeance for his broken heart. He was deeply envious of her family who objectively kept her from him. Check to see if Mrs. Miller attempted filing for a divorce or -or if she had any charges against her husband," Will stammered, mind made soup with all that raced through it. "Her lover - the uh, killer- was someone they all knew, maybe an uncle, family friend, or god father to the children from their father's side. Perhaps all three."

"We'll check with John Miller's family," Jack paused. Will foresaw what he would say next and inhaled sharply to prepare himself. "How have you been Will?"

Will knew it was not exactly a gauge of concern but rather an invitation to open up about something else. "Fine," Will said tetchily.

"How's progress with Hannibal?"

Will nodded his head away in dissent, gazing at the ground. "He hasn't said a vindictive word."

This, of course, was a lie. But it was far too soon to go kicking down Hannibal's door. Will needed more time.

* * *

There's little noise in the room. Despite the spacious office, Will feels boxed in. Hannibal sat across from him, his legs crossed, head tilted in interest as Will retold the crime scene he'd gone to see hours earlier. On occasion Hannibal nodded at all the right parts to show he was listening, interjecting his own input at polite intervals of Will's detailed overview.

"It's unfortunate for anyone to experience unrequited emotions. Or obstacles impeding them from their loved one's embrace."

It seemed on par for Hannibal to refer to someone's partner -in this case Mrs. Miller's husband- as an 'obstacle'. Classifying love rivals as objective hurdles to be knocked over. Under different circumstances, Will might have laughed in Hannibal's face at the absurdity.

"Jealousy is a nasty thing. It can drive a man mad."

"Do you speak from personal experience?" There's a touch of a smile at the corner of Hannibal's wide lips.

"No," Will tilted his chin up. Though his mind conjured an image of Alana, unbidden. "I speak from observation."

Hannibal blinked. The motion was slow and fast at the same time, Will hardly believed it really happened any time it did. Someone of Hannibal's caliber couldn't possibly deign it necessary to do something as inane and human as blinking.

"In this regard, how do your observations make you feel?" Hannibal laced his fingers over his knee.

"How does killing make you feel?" Will shot back, defiance blazed in his eyes.

Silence lathered over them, marinating them in contemplative silence as they drew their own conclusions of one another and mulled over the different ways the other reacted to their special brands of pneumatic anger.

"There's the old Greek tragedy, of Medea and Jason," Hannibal said, leaning his posture slightly backwards to take in Will's form properly. "Are you familiar with it?"

"I might have heard it vaguely mentioned in a college class once," Will sighed, eyes roaming around the room. "Enlighten me, Dr. Lecter."

Will rubbed a finger absentmindedly against the arm of his chair. Hannibal's watchful eyes tracked the slither of movement before dancing back up to Will's face. He'd grown fond of watching every miniscule hint of emotion in Will's face, addicted to every twitch of barely restrained anger, every crease of amusement, the intelligence so arbitrarily portrayed in those pools of mercury and blue. Hannibal savored the taste of them all.

"Their tragedy was one that has been retold for centuries: unreciprocated love," Hannibal begun. "The Gods predestined that the couple might succeed in their quests should Medea maneuver the operation in her and the Gods' favor. She, as is natural, fell in love with Jason. Her love burned with such ferocity she paved the way for Jason to transform so that he might come out victorious. Lent him her aid, magic, devotion, bore him children, left her foundations in Colchis to follow him, and inarguably created Jason's legend."

"I can sense a 'but' coming," Will said, tapping his index on his brow as his cheek rested on his palm. Hannibal wished he could cast Will in plaster, forever capturing Will's beautiful pensive face.

"For a moment, be it their adventures or the circumstances that brought them together, Jason perhaps did love her in return," Hannibal said, studying Will's changing expression carefully. "He'd obtained the Golden Fleece, the favor of the Gods, a family with Medea and their children. Unfortunately, they fell inadequate to him. He ran away and remarried. Medea, in her righteous fury, murdered not only his new bride, but the children she had bore Jason, hurting herself in process of hurting him."

A tension now ran through Will's jaw, Hannibal envisioned himself kissing it.

"Is there a point to this story, Hannibal?"

Will of course, already knew it. Hannibal knew that he did as well.

Satisfaction shone bright in Hannibal's eyes. "I'm merely supporting your earlier theory. The cocktail of jealousy, _and_ love, drives the human mind mad."

"Are you insinuating," Will scoffed, collecting himself. "-it's _my_ fault _you_ killed Abigail?"

"This killer you mentioned earlier feels justified in his profession of love and destruction. Revenge is a very intimate thing, Will."

Will tilted his head, considering. He inclined his back and crossed a leg over the other, mirroring Hannibal.

"How would _you_ feel," Will's voice was flat but deadly. "If someone took someone you loved away from you?"

Hannibal's expression darkened. Will felt a dark twinge of satisfaction in planting the idea in Hannibal's head. Silence loomed over them once more, until finally, Hannibal responded, "I've mourned both the loss of Abigail and my sister, Mischa. I will not allow for the mistake to be made again."

* * *

"Are you sure about this, Will?"

"He's caught sight of the bait, Jack," Will replied. "Or I believe he has. This provides ample opportunity to test the waters, so to speak."

Jack sighed, exhausted with the situation. But also with their lack of concrete evidence of Hannibal being the Ripper. "Very well, Will. But I'm pulling you out if the situation gets out of control."

"It won't," Will lied. He was counting on the situation spiraling out of control.

* * *

~Two Weeks flew by~

Charcoal gently scratched the thick fibers of the paper. Careful hands translated their beloved's beauty to the flat surface.

Hannibal set the material down and checked his watch. It was 7:30, yet there was no sign of Will anywhere.

A loud ring echoed the large room. Hannibal retrieved his phone and held it up to his ear without glancing at the caller ID. "Will,"

"It's Jack, actually," the man's baritone replied.

Hannibal's brow creased, having swiftly detected the concern and stress in Jack's tone,

"Listen, uh," Jack sighed. "There's no easy way to say this. I believe Will's been stabbed. I was talking to him over the phone-"

"Where?" Hannibal interrupted as he briskly pulled his jacket over his shoulders. He grabbed his keys and turned the lights off.

"I'm not sure, he was playing piano as he spoke to me and- I believe the killer from two weeks ago caught hold of him. Me and a couple of agents are checking his home first, I know he has a piano there. Can you check the cabin in-"

"Of course," Hannibal responded as he marched his way to his car.

"I'll send you the location. You're closer to it, though backup will arrive with you eventually. And Hannibal?"

"Yes?"

"Should you encounter the killer," Jack hesitated. "I know you're a capable man, Hannibal. Please do your best to stop him until law enforcement arrives."

"Of course, Jack."

* * *

Andrew Miller had been hidden in the shadows for a while now, waiting, for one last farewell. His brother had been undeserving of Lila's love. And yet she'd chosen _him_ in the end. The thought never failed to combust sick emotion of anger and betrayal from Andrew.

Quickly, and quietly, making sure his large frame made no noise, he crept into the skeleton of what was once a beautiful summer home. Andrew is shocked to have found someone already there. A small scruffy man sat on the piano bench, his knobby experienced fingers danced along the rows of keys. The melody was gentle at first, before it rose and became loud, pained, but raw emotion pulled straight from the man's soul. Andrew could admire the stranger's tenacity but there was no room for him there, in what was _Andrew and Lila's_ place.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Andrew roared, his voice bounded off the walls of the damaged cabin.

He's startled at the quick snap of the stranger's head, storm filled blue eyes bored into Andrew's.

"He's arrived, Jack," the man spoke into a phone sitting on the piano's ledge.

Andrew quickly unsheathed his dagger from his belt, one his father had always taught him to carry when he and John were younger.

"You haven't answered the question you son of a bitch."

"You asked the wrong one," The prick shrugged. Careless. "How often did you imagine killing your brother, Andrew?"

"Who the fuck are you?" Andrew strode his way through the mess of wood and charred items. "And get the hell away from there! You can't sit there! Don't touch the keys with your grimy hands."

"Lila's gone, Andrew." The man closed the wood over the piano keys. He looked back at Andrew. "Did you know she'd gathered divorce papers?"

Andrew staggered.

"Yes," an eerie grin spread across the man's face. "You killed the woman you loved in a stupid jealous fit. She had chosen you, Andrew. You were too stupid and blind to see she loved you-"

Andrew felt relish as the blade slid into the man's side. He watched as the man clutched at the wound bleeding profusely.

...

Hannibal arrived to the tall frame of what was left of the cabin. Not bothering to turn the keys off the ignition of his car, he rushed his way through a gap in the wall. He came to a halt at the sight of Will on the shambles of wood and glass, blood poured from his abdomen, but he laid still, his face blank, frozen in eternal beauty.

Andrew loomed over Will, "I'd go running if I were you. Unless you want to end up dead, like him."

Hannibal stiffened. The world spun on its axis, the teacup shattered, forests crumbled to the ground, and seas clawed the sky. Time slid to a stop, and Hannibal felt his spirit shrivel, unable to reconstruct itself. Andrew's face twisted in surprise as Hannibal strode past him, not even acknowledging his existence, as said man dropped to the ground, sharp objects prodding Hannibal's legs from every direction as he hovered his hands over Will's form not sure where to touch first. _"Mylamisis, stelle nel cielo, amabo te in perpetuum, mi amore."_

As he reached to caress his beloved's face, tear sliding down his face, intending to truly confirm Will's demise through his pulse point, Hannibal was interrupted by a sharp pain stabbed into his shoulder. Hannibal's temper flared to its limit, all emotion slipped away, intertwined with Will and his still form, so as to only leave Hannibal with his effervescent wrath. This cretin, this prey, this _pig_ dared lay a hand on _his_ Will, dared take away his _everything_. He would not allow this worthless man escape his righteous vengeance.

Hannibal stood to his full height, a shadow fell across his face, Andrew's panicked at the sight of fury in the superior predator's eyes. Hannibal took out the dagger from his back with ease and sent it flying across the room to his side without a glance to it as it landed with a clash somewhere far. "You should feel honored, your hideous face will be plastered across every tableaux as the Ripper's latest murder," Hannibal growled before lunging across the floor, past Will's body, and dug his fingers into the bastard's neck.

Andrew kicked into Hannibal's shin, struggling for a split second, only to be pulled harshly into Hannibal's face. He howled in pain as Hannibal teared his teeth into one of his eyes and cheek before ripping the appendage out in a web of red, spitting it to the side. Hannibal ground his teeth, snarl across his stained lips, as he slammed the man across the piano. Before Andrew could take a breath, he was pulled up again by the lapels of his jacket and slammed again back into it. He wheezed in pain, blood poured from his eye socket into the instrument. Andrew glanced back at Hannibal's retreating form as he picked up broken glass from the ground.

"Get- get away from me you frea-"

The shard went into Andrew's other eye.

_For looking at him._

Two shards impaled his flailing hands.

_For touching him._

Hannibal cast a grieving look back to Will's prone form only to startle, shocked to see Will watching him with wide eyes and a parted mouth. His cheeks were flushed, fringe glued to his forehead with sweat, and held his bleeding side, with an utterly besotted expression on his face. Hannibal is both surprised and pleased to see the clear adoration in Will's eyes, Hannibal having countless nights fantasized a similar emotional rawness portrayed by Will at the height of a kill, and in the embrace of Hannibal's arms. However, soon followed the realization that this event had occurred under no natural circumstances.

Hannibal gave a put on sigh. Will figured this was what was the Hannibal equivalent of rolling his eyes. "Did you get to see the result you wanted, Will?"

Will slowly rose, wincing in pain. The things he did for love, Will thought with a scoff. "How long did you plan to keep him alive?" Will said with a nod in Andrew's direction.

"As long as I could," Hannibal replied. Andrew wailed beside him.

They both moved fast, Hannibal's fingers curled around Andrew's neck, just as Will pulled a shard of glass. Hannibal twisted Andrew's neck with a relishing crack, as Will dove the shard deep into Andrew's stomach, and swung his arm upwards. Blood sprouted in cascades of red, covering Will from head to toe in it.

"You have no idea how lovely you look right now," Hannibal whispered in awe. "This is all I ever wanted, for you, for us."

"It's beautiful," Will murmured, still processing what he'd done.

Tensions of electricity sparked between then, only now the currents didn't run with killing intent, at least not towards each other.

Will sighed. "I know you've been with Alana." Hannibal notes the bitterness in Will's voice. "Despite every manipulation, every careful detail, and your clear obsession, I wasn't sure you..." _loved me._

Hannibal saw this as the apology it was for making him go through the pain of losing Will. His blood sung with approval at the cunning man before him. Vengeful, yet so utterly intoxicating with his jealousy and raved show of violence. Will had been affirmed of Hannibal's feelings, and so had he been in turn. They eyed each other with a possessiveness that would scare any other. 

"I hope your question has been answered."

"Jack will be here soon."

They'd long past the threshold in self defense, and ultimately, both felt it was time for a change in scenery.

Hannibal nodded. "We must go. Before we do, however, I have a surprise for you."

"Oh?"

"You'll have to see for yourself."

* * *

Italian sunsets were far superior to the views offered in America. The hour, gold and beautiful, filled Will with ease.

Abigail sat in the lounge behind him, reading a book as Will leaned over the rails of the balcony. Hannibal thumbed through a newspaper on the loveseat. He sighed, remembering. "Did you have to prove your point in such a theatric manner, Will?"

Will glared at Hannibal over his shoulder, "I don't want to hear that from you, Hannibal. No one can compete with your flare for the dramatic."

"You certainly gave it a shot," Hannibal sniffed.

Abigail dove her nose further into her book, hiding her wide smile as Will and Hannibal continued to bicker.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys liked it.


End file.
